


The monster that they made of me

by LokiBitch07



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Community: norsekink, Disturbing Content, Explicit Consent, Gen, No one should read this..., Rape/Non-con References, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiBitch07/pseuds/LokiBitch07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Avengers movie Loki is taken back to Asgard, brought before his father's throne, chained and muzzled. He is asked if he has anything to say in his defense?</p>
<p>In front of all the galaxy, in the middle of the the court of Asgard, before the throne of his father, Loki strips.<br/>His body is grotesque from the torture that the Chitaury have submitted him to. </p>
<p>In the end, he just had to give in to stop the pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The monster that they made of me

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Torture, graphic violence, non-con
> 
> Prompt on norsekink: http://norsekink.livejournal.com/9985.html?thread=21157633#t21157633

When his knees hit the cold marble stone, Loki closes his eyes for a couple of seconds and takes a long deep breath through his nose. His mouth is still sealed with the hard metal gag that suppresses his magic, biting coldly into his soft flesh.  
He had been waiting for this point for a long time, first longed for it then dreaded it. He was too proud to admit that he was glad that this whole …. episode was over, but to explain himself and go through what has happened to him the last couple of years – well, he did not really look forward to this.

He would tell his story once.  
Then never again.  
He would banish it from his mind if he could. 

 

Flashback

_He was falling. After his father had denied him, he fell into space, forever._

_It felt like days, weeks, years, he was not sure, as time was bent differently in space, and at the end Loki was alone with his thoughts and fears for a very long time. He tried to free himself using magic, but to no avail._

_Unfortunately for him, someone else picked up his magical cries for help._

_Loki was dragged before Thanos who had realized the potential of the magic that weaved through the realms, realizing its potential for himself and his love for war._  
_This one would be very useful._  
_The trickster god, even though weak from thirst and hunger, stood proudly before Thano’s throne, his head held high, his green eyes glittering in the darkness of the throne room._  
_Thanos studied the proud little Jotun in front of him, feeling the magic radiate from the small body like a heater. He leaned forward._  
_“Your abilities shall be of great use for us. You shall join us in our upcoming war against the 9 realms with your…gift. “_  
_Loki’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly._

_“I am not interested.” he replies coolly._

_He already tried to free himself using his magic, but his energy is low and the shackles around his wrists hinder his magic to flow from his fingers. For now he has decided to take in his new situation and see where it will take him._

_Thanos stays still, and then he throws his head back and laughs.  
“You are funny little one. Please stay and enjoy our hospitality, and we shall speak again.”_

 

Loki opens his eyes. He is kneeling in the enormous throne room of Asgard, surrounded by what must be every person of rank and importance of the realms. There was a low murmur that does not seem to cease, like bees in a hive, laying a blanket of buzzing over the room.  
There is a wide, empty ring around Loki as if his evil is somehow contagious.  
Thor towers behind him, his hand on the tricksters shoulder maybe to make sure that Loki does not get up and run for it. 

_Run where?_

Odin sits in front of him; his eyes fixed on his youngest son, his adopted son, the black sheep of the family. Frigga next to him, her eyes overflowing with tears, running down her face.  
Still, she holds her composure, apart from the streaks of her cheeks showing no other emotions, eyes hovering slightly above her youngest as if she cannot stand looking at Loki.  
The trickster has lost all his respect and love for Odin, but seeing Frigga cry unexpectedly stabs his heart, a cold blade twisting and leaving him even more ashamed for the things he did.

 

“Loki Laufeyson” Odin’s voice booms through the large hall, silencing the low murmur.  
Loki shifts on his knees.  
“You have brought shame on the house of Odin, on Asgard.  
You have schemed with the Chitaury to bring WAR to the 9 realms, threatened Midgard and destroyed one of their cities and fought your own brother.  
You have overstepped boundaries that were not to be breached.”

Odin Allfather stands, his face twisted in anger.

“You have this one chance to explain yourself, to try and defend your despicable actions in front of this court of your peers. “

 

_Loki is bound to a pole in the middle of a cold, dark room. His breathing is shallow, his arms shackled above him to a metal ring, his feverish head pressed against the rough wood. Steady, powerful lashes strike the tricksters back with a maddening consistency. Loki can feel the whip hitting bone, he grinds his teeth not to scream as he has learned that it will only prolong the beatings. But most of the time he can’t stop himself, his shrieks foreign to his own ears._

_He has no idea how long he has been here. There is no light, there are no days, nothing to count the hours as time trickles by._

_He is beaten regularly, his flesh neatly stripped of his bones, left to heal just to start over again.  
The large Chitauri abuse him, use his flesh, digging their large hands into the open wounds in his back while rutting into him. His screams are silenced by more harsh beatings, by the threat off ripping out his tongue. _

_Finally they sew his mouth shut with thick, metal threat, pulling his lips tight enough to keep him from opening. Now coppery blood washes into his mouth when he cannot hold the screams inside him, when his mouth opens without him wanting it to, to somehow release the agony that is wrecking his flesh._

 

Defend himself….  
Loki nods slowly, green eyes locked into the Allfathers blue ones.  
Odin points to a strange and rather ugly contraption to his left, where a Midgardian is fidgeting with what seemed black threads running along the floor.  
“Midgard has asked us what punishment we shall bestow upon you, and it has been decided to…transport your explanation to them.” He nods towards the nervous looking Midgardian, who stands behind the contraption, speaking into a small device Loki recognizes as a phone.  
He is slightly surprised that this would work, transmitting between the worlds and all, but he is not really that interested and does not waste another thought on it. 

All he can think about is the show that Asgard – and now Midgard as well – is going to get soon.

Because Loki does have…well, it is the best excuse he can come up with, and he is almost interested to see the reactions when he reveals…himself. 

 

_After what seems like an eternity, he is unchained and dragged once more before the ruler, the king, the being they call Thanos._  
_“Now, Trickster, I was wondering if you have had the time to change your mind._  
_Are you now willing to aid us in our quest to take over the realms, to help us rule by submitting your powers to me and my army?”_

_Loki, though barely standing between the two guards holding him up by his chains, swaying back and forth on his weak legs, shakes his head as his lips are still sewn shut._

_All he can think about is Thor and Frigga and Odin and Asgard, and that no matter how much he despised them what they have done to him, he was not going to help destroy them.  
He had planned to die when he released the staff, and he would be happy to die now._

_Thanos leans forward, eyes sparkling_  
_“Then, my little Jotun, it is time for you to feel what pain is._  
_We have time._  
_Lots of time._  
_Just let us know when you are ready to submit.”_

 

“You may speak when you are ready, Loki Laufeyson.” Odin booms.  
Loki is snapped back into reality.  
The trickster feels the strong hand on his shoulder moving under his arm, pulling him up. Loki winces.  
Thor opens the complicated contraption that holds Loki’s muzzle in place, until it finally falls to the floor with a loud clattering noise.  
Loki raises his hands to massage his face, where the blunt edges of the metal device have bitten into his cheek, leaving a slight burning sensation.  
He takes his time, stalling slightly to postpone the humiliation he knows that is coming.  
And the pity. He hates it when people are sorry for him. 

“Would it be possible for you to remove the bindings, Allfather?” Loki speaks low and respectfully. He raises his hands, holding the chain in front of him. He needs to have his hands free to continue. 

Loki can hear the angry murmur sweeping through the room, like a nest of upset hornets, as many probably believe that he will try to flee if released from the magic-binding shackles. 

Odin must be thinking the same, as his face flushes in a dark red color.  
“Loki, do not test my patience. You do not need your hands or arms for this matter to speak to us! What do you take me for, a fool? Now continue before I change my mind!”

Loki lowers his head. Then he turns to Thor.  
“Could you help me cut away my clothing? There is something I will need to show the court”.  
Thor looks taken back, and looks at his father tentatively.  
Odin frowns, stroking his beard. He leans back, studying his bound son in front if him.

“Thor, move the shackles to his legs and keep a close watch on him. It should still contain his magic.”  
The murmur is getting louder, washing through the room. 

Loki suppresses a sigh of relief.  
This will make it much easier.  
He stands still as Thor opens one shackle and makes him kneel to attach it to his ankle, then only releasing the other cuff around his wrist and also placing it around his feet. His magic is still bound, but at least his hands are free.

The trickster stands, raises his head and speaks:  
“There is no excuse for what I have done, for the sorrow I have caused by my actions. For the death and destruction I have brought to Midgard. There are no words for me to explain why this has happened.  
Therefore I have decided to show you. “

First Loki releases the buckle that runs over his shoulder and takes off his black leather coat, and he can hear the first gasp from the Asgardians closest to him.  
A hiss from behind him where Thor pulls air through his teeth.  
Damn them for their pity.

 

_They do not touch his hands. His hands are sacred as he needs them to channel his magic. Thanos made it very clear what he would do to anyone abusing them. The rest of his body however, apart from his face, is a free for all._  
_And they have time._  
_So much time._

_To Loki it felt like they spend days, sometimes weeks (months? years?) focusing on one or two parts of his body, allowing him to feel the pain deeply, slowly, while starving him, allowing him just enough water to stay alive._

_On his arms, the skin and flesh is peeled off, the remaining muscle carved and branded with dark runes. The runes cause white hot pulsating pain day in and day out, dark magic flowing through Loki’s body, binding him to consciousness no matter how bad the torture, how much he wishes he could sink into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness or even death.  
His arms are stripped down to nerves and bone, day by day another layer, slowly and painfully, the trickster screaming his lips bloody behind the sealing thread. _

_Hooked needles are inserted into what little meat is still available, pulling out the nerves to the air, binding silver rings around them to keep them in place. Small chains connect the rings with each other running from his wrists along his arms up to his shoulder, another nice tool to torture Loki by simply giving them a small tug._

 

The flesh never grew back. His hands are what they used to be, but they seem attached to something that should not belong to anything alive. Thin skinless, burned remains of his arms, the branded runes still visible, silver shining, sparkling, holding thick yellow nerves in view.  
Loki is very careful when peeling off his jacket not to disturb the chain that combines the tiny silver rings, and when he does he lets out a small pained gasp before biting his lips.  
The jacket falls to the floor.  
The god of lies takes a quick look around, and can see pale faces, eyes as big as saucers, staring at him. The Midgardian is throwing up quietly behind his device.

No matter.

His voice resonates through the large hall:  
“After I have fallen from the bridge, I was captured by the Chitaury. I was not willing to deny my heritage and turn against the realms I used to love.”

Loki unbuckles the vest, the leather clinging close to his body and takes off the lower part, leaving a black undershirt with the golden ring around his upper body. 

“But in the end, they found a way to control my mind and body with their…contraptions”

The gold metal band stays in place, fused to the tricksters flesh as he slowly removes the rest of the shirt, pulling it over his head, his face a grimace of pain. 

 

_His body._  
He used to be strong – once. Not as strong as his golden brother or the warrior 3.  
Even Sif bested him in combat without his magic.  
But the never-ending sparring he had to attend, the battles, the wrestling session with his brother had made Loki lean and hard. His muscles had been finely tuned, rippling under his shirt, nice enough to get at least some maidens into his bed. And some warriors.  
Loki had never been too choosy. 

_None of this made a difference when they started to carve into him._  
_Chitaury have long claws, and they would hover over him, their horrendous visages over his face, slowly dragging claws down his belly or back, slicing through flesh as if it were butter._  
_Stinking breath hot against him._  
_Biting. Chewing off whole pieces, ripping off large chunks of meat._  
_Other times they would use instruments, inserting needles under his nipples to lift them up, more and more, burning and cutting and slicing until they finally fall off._

_They carve his stomach open to allow air to his intestines, setting rings around his colon, piercing his organs, watching the god of lies buck under their fingers._

 

When he drops his shirt, the whole room goes silent once more.  
Apart from the Midgardian, who starts to retch once again.  
_Mewling quim._  
He knows what his chest and stomach looks like, and so he can only imagine what the rest of his body will represent.  
Grotesque.  
_I am the monster parents tell their children about at night._

His nipples gone, a y-shaped large and knotty scar sneaking from his chest down over his stomach.  
The gold collar fused into his chest.  
Flesh burned and twisted.  
His back – he knows that his spine is exposed, and he when he let his finger wander over it he felt that the skin that had been lifted off was braided and sewn back into place. 

 

_“You are pretty like a girl, so may as well have some braids on you” the beast had whispered into his ear. He lifts of strips of skin and flesh, winds them together, stitching them back in place with blunt needles._  
_He was laying flat on his stomach, two spears driven through his side, one on the left, the other on the right, pinning him to the ground. Easier to use. Easier to abuse. Easier access to his back._

_His back._

_Loki can hear it break, snap when bend him over a table, the surface under him burning into his open abdomen, his intestines moving against it, falling onto the shining surface._  
_They break his spine in several places, slowly, meticulously, again and again._

_Chitaury abuse him while his back is broken, laid over the table, chained into place as his legs will not hold him._  
_Touching his exposed bones of the spine while they fuck him._  
_Breaking something inside him, as the blood does not stop flowing out of the trickster’s ass._

_Again, his nerves are pulled through rings, this time along his exposed backbone, Loki can feel each and everyone one of them as they are combined with a chain._

_But he is a god after all, his own magic trapped inside him healing him slowly, allowing his legs to function once more, but he is bound in shapes that do not allow his spine to set straight. Walking is agony._

 

The chain that connects his nerves on his back wanders up under his long hair, connected to something that cannot be seen.

Loki continues to speak, his voice strong, loud and clear.  
“They have been able to control some of my movements by laying a tap into my brain.  
It did not work the way they wanted to, as they had no access to my magic and therefore what they were after. They still needed my consent to work along with them”  
The trickster lowers his eyes for a moment before he continues speaking.  
“In the end, I just had to stop the pain.”

 

_There is a child. He…he will not think of it. Not mention it. Ever._

_They sew him together with more thick, metal string. Some of his organs are gone, but he knows not which._

 

Loki moves on to his pants, opening the belt buckle, dropping the black leather pants to the floor.  
His legs revealed are similar as his arms, black and charred, some areas open to the bone, rings running along the back connected with chains.  
The back of Loki’s heels are opened with large metal flesh tunnels, the shiny silver manacles that Thor fastened to his feet gleaming above them. 

 

_When his heels are pierced and the metal tubes pushed through his screaming flesh, Loki’s mind has started to wonder why he has been fighting Thanos. He has no more loyalty to anyone._

_He feels how his heels are clipped together, and from then on he is left “free” to hobble and move around in his cell._  
_But his legs are restricted by the chain that connects his heels._  
_It runs through the rings holding his nerves exposed, all the way up his legs, along his spine and down his arms. Every step sends spasms of white hot pain through his body._  
_So Loki stops moving._  
_He just stops._

 

Loki borrows his eyes into those of the Allfather when he speaks one last time.

“In the end, I was just not strong enough.”

 

_When he finally gives in, Thanos strokes his sweaty hair, lifting the tricksters chin up, almost gentle._  
_“You are mine now, god of lies.”_  
_Loki’s sewn lips are released, and with blood-red teeth he manages to speak_  
_“I have some demands before I decide to work with you.” He shakes of the guards, manages to stand on his own, pretending he still has a choice, still has options._  
_Thanos laughs and leans in to listen to his new slaves requests._

_They melt the gold metal ring into his flesh, just above his missing nipples, a golden collar never to be removed. Always to remind him whom he belongs to._

 

Fin.


End file.
